


Love Of My Life

by the2fast2u



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 11:12:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2307563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the2fast2u/pseuds/the2fast2u
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was never supposed to happen. Especially not like this. Why on Earth did I have to fall for this stupid, loud American? He had always been loud: you could put him in the middle of Oxford Street and you’d never miss him, not even for a second. Even if you weren’t with him, you’d see him with no problem. So, how did I end up in a long-term relationship with him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Of My Life

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is 100% dedicated to exiax.tumblr.com who forced me to write my first 100% fluffy fic with the lovely fanart she did for this (which will be on my tumblr).  
> Also, thanks to roret.tumblr.com and bring-the-homo.tumblr.com for doing the beta for this (even though I didn't exactly pay too much attention to what they told me...sorry.  
> As always, comments are much appreciated either here on on my tumblr ( the2fast2u.tumblr.com )

This was never supposed to happen. Especially not like this. Why on Earth did I have to fall for this stupid, loud American? He had always been loud: you could put him in the middle of Oxford Street and you’d never miss him, not even for a second. Even if you weren’t with him, you’d see him with no problem. So, how did I end up in a long-term relationship with him?

It had all started five years ago. I was in my third year of university when I first met him. Things were fairly normal until then. I got up at 6 o’clock sharp from Monday to Friday, had breakfast, went to class, went to work and came back. During the weekend I went to play cricket with some high-school friends and maybe go to a pub. Looking back, some may say my life was a lot more boring without him in my life, and I can’t say I disagree with them from time to time. However, if you had asked me back then, I wouldn’t have changed a thing. I can’t believe how much my life changed when I signed up to help the exchange students out with getting used to the university and to the British way of life. But it did.

The program only allowed third and fourth-year students, so it was my first time helping others. I had absolutely no idea what was waiting for me. Even if I had actually paid proper attention to my upperclassmen when they were preparing us, I wouldn’t have foreseen this. He was just so loud, so energetic, so…so…himself. And he didn’t even realize it. He greeted everybody with a big hug, not even caring that he was making people uncomfortable, he talked for hours, he ate all the time…he simply didn’t care about people thought of him. And maybe that’s what bothered me the most of him. He was so free, so happy, so everything that I thought I would never want in my life. And yet, I had no way of escaping him. I couldn’t ask for him to be assigned to another person because there was nobody else to assign him to, and even if there had been somebody else, I couldn’t have done that – I had no real reason not to help him out. After all, being a bloody noisy and annoying person wasn’t really something I could file. So I had to stick with him for an entire semester. My duties were simply to walk him through campus and show him where each of his classes were. Maybe show him a map of the underground and mark the best places to eat and study, but that was it.

However, there was something about him that made it so hard to draw the line. And no, it wasn’t because I had “feelings” towards him or anything of that sort, it’s because that bloody American just wouldn’t leave me alone for a second. He would call me or text me out of nowhere asking for me to take him to Hide Park or Madame Tussauds’ museum or some stupid thing like that. I tried avoiding him for a while: I pretended not to have read his message or to have some important essay to write, but I eventually ran out of excuses and had to humour him. It was something simple: I went to pick him up to the house he was staying (because God knows he would have ended up in the opposite side of the city had he gone by himself), we went to Hide Park, had some sandwiches that he prepared, to my surprise, and then I drove him back to his house. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined how much that one simple day would change my life.

After our “date”, as he kept calling it, he became more and more persistent. He even came to one of my bloody classes to make sure I couldn’t avoid him once! Anyway, it became pretty obvious after a week or two that there was no way he was going to take no for an answer after I had said yes to him once, so I had to accept more often than not in order to get him to shut up. Therefore, our “dates” became more and more frequent. We’d go to famous landscapes, have lunch at campus together, visit some museums, you get the picture. However, for some odd reason, he’d always ask to go to Hide Park whenever we couldn’t decide where to go.

I have absolutely no idea how I managed to study, work at my family’s pub and meet him as often as I did during that semester, but somehow it all worked out. It wasn’t until we were close to finishing it that I realized that I wouldn’t be having some loud American following me everywhere I’d and sending me messages at 3 in the morning. And, for some reason, I wasn’t exactly happy about it. I tried to recall how I went through my life the year before and it suddenly seemed dull, boring. I didn’t want to admit that this nosy, loud, obnoxious person had any effect on my life at all, but, for some reason, he was. I knew that he was. That I’d miss those messages at 3am waking me up for some stupid reason I couldn’t care less at the moment, those days spent at museums, those lunches in the cafeteria, those stares people would give us when he was being particularly loud…okay, maybe I wouldn’t miss _those_ specifically, but I would miss the pack in which they were included. And the worst thing is, I had no idea why. Why would I miss him? What was it about him that I didn’t even know of his existence 4 months ago and now he somehow seemed so important it kept me up looking at my phone?

I tried to shake off that uneasiness – told myself it was only _because_ he was being so loud and spending so much time with me that I was feeling this way now, but that as soon as was on the plane off to the States, everything would go back to normal. Only that didn’t work either. I didn’t want this feeling to go away. I mean, I did. Or maybe I didn’t. I didn’t even know anymore. All I knew is that I didn’t want him to go. I wanted him to stay. He could finish his studies here, after all. No matter how dumb he looked, the guy was pretty smart and could even get a full scholarship if he wanted. But maybe he didn’t want to. Maybe he was happy to go back home. I wouldn’t know, I had never stepped foot outside London for more than a weekend, let alone gone to another country for 4 entire months. He probably felt homesick and was glad to go back. He probably wouldn’t miss me. He most likely wouldn’t miss me the same way I’d miss him.

And so the days passed and my uneasiness grew. Until it there was only one week, one short week, before he left the UK. He asked to go to Hide Park again, and I couldn’t find it in me to reject him. I mean, can you blame me? The guy was about to leave and who knew if he was ever going to come back, so I might as well humour him for the last time. I tried to act normal, but he saw right through me. I knew he would. He always did, after all. I told him it was nothing; that I was simply stressing about my grades since I still hadn’t heard from my teachers so I didn’t know how I had done in my finals. I thought he had bought it since he didn’t mention it after that. Of course, he was just waiting for the right time to bring it back up.

I was seeing him off for the last time. I still had mixed feelings about the whole situation: it was the last time seeing him off, the last time my studying would be interrupted by him and his stupid sight-seeing ideas…but, on the other hand…it was the last time my studying would be interrupted by him and his stupid sight-seeing ideas. We were on the underground, both of us sitting down perfectly quiet staring at nothing in particular. Anybody who saw us might have easily thought we didn’t know each other, let alone that we were riding the tube together. I was so lost in thoughts I completely blocked my surroundings. I couldn’t have seen what happened next coming if somebody had told me about it. I was way deep inside my thoughts, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time, when suddenly I felt something tug my arm and turn me around. And then: something hard and soft, sweet but bitter right in front of my lips. My eyes went wide and time suddenly stopped. It could have been seconds, minutes or hours before the pressure was gone for all I cared. We were on the underground during rush hour, but that didn’t seem to bother me at all.

“I didn’t want to leave before doing that. Sorry if it freaked you out,” was all he said before standing up and rushing out of the train. Meanwhile, I stayed frozen in my seat replaying everything in my mind. Was that…? Did that mean that he…? I wasn’t dreaming, now, was I? Because that would explain absolutely everything that had happened in the past hours. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been a dream. This means I would have to face the music sooner or later and, considering that Alfred was leaving the country in little less than 24 hours, it would have to be sooner rather than later.

I called the house he was staying at, but nobody answered. I was about to give up when his host mother picked up the phone, only to tell me Alfred had already gone to bed. I thanked her and decided to do the same thing myself. Clearly, that was easier said than done – I should have seen that one coming. That…kiss…kept playing over and over and over again in my mind. I didn’t understand what this – all of this – meant. Why did he do it? What did he mean by it? Why had he done that just now? Why did it keep me up like this? It just didn’t make sense.

In what seemed like no time, my alarm was waking me up. I wanted to see Alfred to the airport; I _had_ to see him off. I didn’t know why. I didn’t even question myself and my reasons; I simply got up, prepared my breakfast and got dressed. I checked my phone to see if he had called or left any messages, but I was faced with no notifications whatsoever. I was kind of disappointed by that, but I didn’t let it affect me; I grabbed my jacket and my keys and left to his place. Well…it wouldn’t be his place any longer in a few hours, but I figured I would always consider it to be his place, his home. I arrived just when he was putting his luggage in his host family’s car. I will never forget the look in his eyes when he saw me there: happiness, nervousness, doubt, and, most importantly, surprise.

“You didn’t think I would let you leave without saying goodbye after all those times you forced me to hang out with you, were you?” I asked him while approaching him.

“Wouldn’t even consider it an option,” he answered smiling before I got a sense of déjà vu on my lips.

 

But even after all of that, even after talking for hours online after he left and after living with this bastard for over 3 years, I would have never, ever expected for this to happen. Because it was violating one of our unwritten rules: do not make any massive public displays of affection no matter what. This was not supposed to happen. No, no, no, no. This was not happening. This idiotic, annoying, gorgeous bastard was not standing in front of our bar/house with a bloody sign asking me to marry him. This was all a dream, a really, really, _really_ bad dream, because if it wasn’t he wasn’t going to make it to our wedding day alive.

“What…what…what does this mean?” I growled towards him.

“Huh? I thought it was pretty clear…I want us to get married!” He explained with that grin of his glued to his face. When I was still practically murdering him with my look, he added “you know. Get our families united, get some more rights, spend the rest of our lives together…”

“I know what getting married means!”

“Then why did you…?”

“I don’t understand why you’d ask me like this!” I cut him off right away.

“Oh, this?” He pointed at the sign that was still hanging across the street. “I thought you’d like it. You know, a little something extra.” Oh, how I wanted to slap that stupid grin off his face.

“You have exactly three seconds to come inside where people won’t stare at us.”

“But, Arthur…”

“One…”

“But, you still haven’t…”

“Two…”

“Wait, just answer…”

“Thr…”

“Fine! I’m coming, I’m coming!” He was running inside our house before I could finish the word. “Happy?”

“Not really. Why would you do that? You know how I feel about flashy displays of affection.”

“I thought you’d like it. Plus, people in this neighbourhood already know about us, I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss about it…”

“Alfred, you know it’s not about that. I’m not ashamed of you or anything…”

“So?” God, no. Not the puppy eyes, not the puppy eyes. Anything but the puppy eyes.

“It’s just…it’s complicated.” I said holding him in my arms.

“You now…you still haven’t given me an answer…” He said looking me straight in the eye.

“D-do I really have to say it?”

“Well…it’s not really official until you do…” He was teasing, he was totally teasing…

“But…you already know the answer…” I was _not_ going to fall for it.

“Come on, Arth, just say it…for me?” I was most definitely _not_ falling for it.

“…fine…yes, I would be honoured to be your husband…” Okay, maybe I fell for it.

“Really?” Oh, how I would fall for it over and over again to see that look in his eyes one more time. Not that I would ever tell him that.

“Really. Happy now?” And then I felt that hard yet soft and bitter yet sweet pressure against my lips one more time.

“Not happy, ecstatic.”


End file.
